<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>A Room with a View by Apathy</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25647928">A Room with a View</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apathy/pseuds/Apathy'>Apathy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Les Misérables - Victor Hugo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comedy, Forced Proximity, M/M, Trapped in a Small Space</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:29:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,648</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25647928</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apathy/pseuds/Apathy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Javert takes a more active role in staking out the Thénardiers at the Gorbeau House. Marius experiences a wide range of emotions.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Javert/Marius Pontmercy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Rare Male Slash Exchange 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Room with a View</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jehane/gifts">iberiandoctor (Jehane)</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For iberiandoctor!</p>
<p>With thanks to saltedpin for the lightning-fast beta. Any mistakes are my own.</p>
<p>Any recognisable dialogue belongs to Hugo, by way of Hapgood.</p>
<p>isaakfvkampfer has very kindly provided a Chinese translation <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28480800">here</a>!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had, Marius supposes, started out as a simple enough proposition.</p>
<p>
  <i>”I know that barrack. Impossible to conceal ourselves inside it without the artists seeing us, and then they will get off simply by countermanding the vaudeville. They are so modest! An audience embarrasses them. None of that, none of that. I want to hear them sing and make them dance.”</i>
</p>
<p>Some strange spirit of bravery had possessed him in that moment, taking control of his larynx and sending the words tumbling from his mouth before he could pause to question their wisdom:</p>
<p>
  <i>“The brigand and his daughters have left the house, and the wife was soon to depart in order to buy charcoal; if we left now, it may be that you could enter my lodgings undetected and spy upon them in the same manner as I did before.”</i>
</p>
<p>After that had followed a flurry of activity, with Inspector Javert advising that he needed first to confer with his colleagues, and that Marius should return to the Gorbeau house and await his arrival. There had then been two hours of skulking about his apartment, recoiling at each creak of the walls and every chill breeze that eddied around the room, the endless, stomach-churning tedium punctuated with only the occasional terrifying dash down the stairs to see if the inspector had yet arrived.</p>
<p>Which is how he now finds himself outside with his coat pulled tight about his shoulders against the swirling snow, peering around the corner of the building in the hopes of sighting the inspector’s forbidding form. He opens his mouth to call out, but how does one call out when one also needs very much to avoid alerting any other person to his presence?</p>
<p>“Pontmercy.”</p>
<p>Marius does not jump, precisely; it is more of a startle at most. He clutches his hand to his chest as he turns to look in the direction of the voice.</p>
<p>“Inspector Javert!”</p>
<p>It takes his brain a moment to catch up with the fact that, yes, it is indeed the good inspector. The man is dressed in a decidedly different fashion than the one he sported a mere couple of hours ago – he now has the appearance of a beggar, albeit a beggar with the most upright posture that Marius has ever encountered, and a tattered cap sits low over his eyes.</p>
<p>
  <i>Oh. A disguise.</i>
</p>
<p>It makes sense that Javert would at least make an attempt to blend with his surroundings, but Marius suspects that any lowlife worthy of the title would pick him as a police officer at fifty paces. Still, the disguise might pass muster in the gloomy shadows of the hovel. If the observer catches only a fleeting glimpse. And if they are not blessed with particularly good eyesight.</p>
<p>Marius looks about cautiously, checking for eavesdroppers. His voice, when he speaks, is barely a whisper, but his heart is beating at a roar, and he is terrified that it should give away his presence. “You are in luck, Inspector – the Jondrette woman has not yet returned from her errands, and their room sits empty. If we should go upstairs now, then – ”</p>
<p>“Is that her?” the inspector interrupts him, and Marius takes a moment to marvel at the sheer effrontery of this discourteous display, before his brain catches up to the situation at hand. His head turns glacially, and – there, that is her, hurrying down the street towards them. He cannot make out the details at this distance, but the identity of the person in question is undeniable. There are no two women in all of Paris who could fill that imposing outline; certainly, there are no two women in all of Paris who would wear that hat with that shawl.</p>
<p>His stomach does a slow, terrible, lurching roll. This is it – the whole plan dashed to smithereens, and all because Marius had not taken charge and ordered Javert inside and up the stairs the moment he spotted him. No, Monsieur Leblanc will return at six o’clock, and that good gentleman will meet his ghastly fate! And then –</p>
<p>“Come quickly.”</p>
<p>He feels the pressure around his wrist before he comprehends its source, and he follows its insistent tugging before his indignation can fully take form. A massive hand has wrapped itself around his forearm, its iron-hard grip dragging him inexorably through the front door of the building.</p>
<p>It is insanity – the woman is <i>right there – !</i></p>
<p>The hand – it really is a remarkably large hand, he must say – is shoving him up the stairs now without a hint of decorum, and he wishes to make his displeasure known, he really does, but he can hear the woman’s tuneless humming as she approaches the front door. </p>
<p>Fear lends his feet wings, and he takes the steps two at a time. Not to be outdone, Javert is taking them four at a time, and the hand that moments ago was upon his back is now back upon his wrist again, hauling him up the stairs with a brute force that cannot be denied. Marius stumbles upon the second-to-last step – trips – flails – and finds himself wrapped securely in a strong pair of arms before he can plummet to the floor.</p>
<p>He looks up, and is captured once more – this time in the steely gaze of Inspector Javert. It is impossible to look away – those penetrating eyes have sunk their hooks into him, reeling him closer, the faint edge of contempt somehow making them all the more compelling. Marius stares back unblinkingly, distantly certain that if his life must flash before his eyes, surely it should have done so when he was in the process of crashing face-first into the floor, rather than when gazing into the countenance of his saviour?</p>
<p>Not that he is feeling particularly well-disposed towards Javert. If he had not been yanking and shoving with such brutish force, Marius would never have lost his footing to begin with!</p>
<p>He opens his mouth to give the inspector a well-deserved tongue-lashing, but before he can deliver his devastating missive, he finds himself hauled to his feet once more, Inspector Javert dragging him to the door of Marius’ own room and thrusting him through.</p>
<p>Marius collapses onto his bed, gasping in quick breaths of delicious air, before he looks up to see the inspector easing the door closed with nary a squeak of the hinges.</p>
<p>“Your key, Pontmercy,” he murmurs, holding out his hand. “Be quick about it, unless you wish to be discovered.”</p>
<p>The man clearly intends to lock the two of them in here together, and an unutterable feeling rolls up through Marius’ body and settles, hotly, in his face. He grasps for words, managing to find some that sound like something a reasonable man would say.</p>
<p>“But, Inspector,” he whispers, “I never lock my door. If you were to lock it now, why, they would realise that something is amiss.”</p>
<p>In the flat stare and deathly silence that follows, Marius knows that the inspector is surely judging him for both his lax attitude towards personal security <i>and</i> the stuttering of his words, not to mention the mysterious redness that surely suffuses his face.</p>
<p>Marius forces himself to continue. “If you wish for true verisimilitude, then I suggest that you leave the key in the outside of the door, as that is my usual habit.”</p>
<p>The look that Javert is giving him is truly a masterpiece of scorn; no words are required in order for Marius to perceive and comprehend every thought that is running through his head in this moment. But the man clearly understands the necessity of maintaining cover, and so he approaches Marius, muttering to himself.</p>
<p>Marius knows, on some level, that he is, technically, capable of rising to his feet under his own steam, walking to the door, and placing the key into the keyhole. But Javert is towering over him like some living resurrection of the Colossus of Rhodes, only even more terrible and magnificent, and Marius is powerless to do anything except drop the key into his hand with trembling fingers.</p>
<p>Javert makes his way towards the door again, silent as a cat despite his great size, and he listens at the door for a long moment. Marius strains his own ears – the ogress has returned to her den, clomping about on the other side of the too-thin wall. The time is now – the inspector must strike swiftly, or abandon the door to its keyless fate. </p>
<p>The inspector gently eases the door ajar, slipping the key into the lock; Marius holds his breath for a long moment, but there is no yell, no crash, no echo of gunfire. The door slips closed again; the room seems to exhale a sigh of relief, and Marius exhales with it.</p>
<p>Not that the danger has passed – far from it! For now it is just Marius and Inspector Javert, alone in this small room, with several hours to wait until Jondrette and his band of ne’er-do-wells spring their trap upon that most admirable Monsieur Leblanc. The thought sends Marius’ stomach into a queasy spin; and perhaps a similar thought has occurred to the inspector, for he turns to face Marius with an expression that seems neutral enough on the surface, but underneath which are the clear beginnings of something far more dangerous.</p>
<p>“Tell me again, how long until they arrive?”</p>
<p>Javert has asked this several times already, and the answer has been provided truthfully on each occasion, but Marius suspects that perhaps the inspector is merely trying to engage in a little wishful thinking. </p>
<p>“Two hours, Inspector,” he whispers; then, at the darkening of Javert’s expression, he hastens to add, “or more like an hour and a half, I imagine. Yes, an hour and a half; perhaps even a few minutes less.”</p>
<p>This does not appear to please Javert overly much, but at least it seems to be enough to placate him. Still, he does not move from his place in the centre of the room, though now he looks around, clearly taking in his meagre surroundings and judging them with an assessing, professional eye. Marius feels a temptation to fold in upon himself again and again until he becomes nothingness; however, such an undertaking is neither possible nor practical at this particular point in time. In any case, Javert merely nods to himself after several interminable moments, and a terrible stillness descends upon the room once more.</p>
<p>Clearly neither of them had thought this far ahead – clearly neither had contemplated the ramifications of such close proximity! What is there to do here that may prove diverting? Not a single thing. What topics would they choose to discuss, even if being overheard were not a problem? None that Marius can think of. What was going through his head when he suggested this harebrained plot? Nothing at all!</p>
<p>Long moments pass. Long, long moments. An aeon comes and goes within the confines of Marius’ room.</p>
<p>He cannot stand it. He opens his mouth, and waits for words to fall out. Which words, he does not know. Finding out will be just as exciting for him as it will be for the inspector.</p>
<p>“The hole?”</p>
<p>While Javert does not <i>say</i> anything, <i>I beg your pardon</i> is very clearly implied, practically radiating from his whole being. Marius clears his throat and tries again; and even though he barely speaks at a whisper, the words ring out like a knell.</p>
<p>“The hole. The one I invited you here to examine. My hole.”</p>
<p>Marius wonders about the chances of the ground itself opening up and swallowing him into its endless depths, never to be seen again. He hopes that Courfeyrac will not mock him too ungently in his eulogy, although he suspects that he would probably deserve it.</p>
<p>Given that his mouth cannot be trusted, Marius resorts to his finger. He jabs it in the direction of the hole in the wall, the one through which he espied the dubious goings-on… was it but a few short hours ago? It seems like a lifetime.</p>
<p>Thankfully, the inspector apparently decides to use his finely honed powers of deduction to look in the direction in which Marius is pointing, observe his hole, and come to the conclusion that it would be better for him to look through said hole and see what the criminals beyond are doing than to stand around and watch Marius slowly combust in the corner. A fine decision, very laudable.</p>
<p>Javert climbs directly onto the commode in one smooth motion, bringing his eyes level with the hole. While Marius had had to strain in order to reach it, the inspector has the opposite problem, bending his knees and twisting his neck in order to see clearly.</p>
<p>“Aha!” he hisses. “She is heating the brazier – ah! Yes, your philanthropist friend will be in for a hard time of it if he walks into their trap.”</p>
<p>It seems as if the thought of impending violence has awakened something within him, his temperament improving greatly at the idea of some sort of hideous brazier-related crime, and he gestures at Marius to join him upon the commode. As if it is perfectly reasonable for the two of them to stand upon it side by side and peer into the wolves’ den together!</p>
<p>It is therefore with some consternation that Marius finds himself clambering up onto the commode without any conscious thought, pressing up close against the inspector’s side and going up on his tiptoes in order to get a glimpse. Not that he can register much of what he sees – not when the smell of tobacco on the man is so overwhelming, not when his deep, gravelly voice is whispering directly into Marius’ ear.</p>
<p>“The brazier is for heating a metal implement,” Javert murmurs, his breath hot against Marius’ cheek, and Marius nods dumbly. “I know their type. Those fiends will use the implement to brand their victim, to burn his flesh and mark him as theirs.”</p>
<p>“Mm-hmm,” Marius breathes. The heat from the brazier reaches even as far as his apartment, suffusing his body. How efficient it is!</p>
<p>“You say that this philanthropist is an older gentleman. I do not believe it will go well for him if he falls into their hands – but we will be here to make sure that things do not go too far. It was well done that you overheard the plan, and came to me to seek help.”</p>
<p>That last part almost sounds like a compliment, albeit a grudging one, and a sudden dizzy spell has Marius pressing his fingers against the wall in order to preserve his balance. Thoughts tumble through his head, barely coherent – a surge of pride at the implied praise, the sudden return of his concern for poor Monsieur Leblanc, the abrupt reminder that any foul fate that may befall Monsieur Leblanc will have terrible repercussions upon his beloved Ursule. And he is terribly concerned for her – for them both! But in this moment, his sweet Ursule suddenly seems very, very far away… and the inspector is so very, very close.</p>
<p>Even closer now, in fact – as if such a thing can be possible! – as he is now pushing his cheek against Marius’ own, so that they both may see through the crevice. Marius swallows. Perhaps contemplating the terrible fate Monsieur Leblanc might have met if only they had not arrived to avert it has affected him more than he thought, as he feels decidedly faint. </p>
<p>But he has given his word to the inspector that he will assist him, and so he must remain strong. His resolve renewed, he peers through the crevice, and attempts to take in the words that Javert whispers into his ear.</p>
<p>“That woman is a brute – do not be fooled by her sex. She is more to be feared than many of her accomplices. The others will arrive soon, take my word for it. Do you see those dark corners? This room – this whole building – is perfectly designed for an ambush.”</p>
<p>Marius nods along with the words, absorbing perhaps every third one, his higher functions abandoning him in favour of noticing the way in which Javert’s whiskers tickle the side of his face. A queer thought occurs to him – what would those whiskers feel like as they brushed against the inside of his thigh? – and only the sudden strong grip of Javert’s hand on his shoulder keeps him upright.</p>
<p>“I think – ” Marius manages to force out past the restriction in his throat, “I think that I have seen all that I need to see. If it is all the same to you, I may sit down for a while.”</p>
<p>He does not wait for an answer, instead removing himself from atop the commode and moving down to the bed in a manner that could charitably be described as a stumble. He looks up from where he has landed on the bed, lifting his gaze towards the ceiling and the looming figure of Inspector Javert; Javert appears to be hovering between disdain and indifference, before apparently opting for the latter.</p>
<p>“I have seen all there is to see for now,” he says, stepping down to the ground. Despite the lightness of his step, his boots still thud against the floorboard, and he stops to think for a moment, before bending down to remove his shoes.</p>
<p>Marius watches, entranced, as the first boot is tugged off. Inspector Javert is removing his clothes within the tight confines of Marius’ apartment, and this is not how he foresaw his day proceeding when he awoke this morning! </p>
<p>The second boot goes the way of the first, and Javert’s hands move upwards. They appear to move towards the man’s belt for some indiscernible reason, and Marius’ breath evacuates his lungs with all haste; but in the end the inspector merely picks up his boots and moves them under Marius’ bed.</p>
<p>He moves back from the bed, and looks at Marius in a pointed fashion. Marius stares back for long moments, pinned in place by the intensity of those eyes, before a helpful voice in his head advises him that perhaps it would be timely if he also removed his shoes – not only for the sake of reducing noise, but also because he is being a terrible host, sprawled on his mattress with his beshoed feet upon the threadbare blanket while his guest wanders around in his stockings.</p>
<p>He fumblingly pulls his shoes off, not doing too poor a job of it, and slides them under his bed. He forces himself to raise his eyes, to look upon Javert in the rapidly fading light of the late winter afternoon, to hold his head up and meet the inspector’s eyes like a man.</p>
<p>And… now what?</p>
<p>They are both practically naked. There is still far too much time until the allotted hour – it may feel like an age has passed since they entered the room, but he suspects that it is merely a trick of the mind, and in fact time has been passing in reverse this whole time. He thinks that he may spend the rest of his life here, staring across the close confines of the room at Inspector Javert until they both pass away of cold or starvation or old age.</p>
<p>It is all too much. Marius opens his mouth to say something, anything, but then the inspector raises his hand sharply. The implication is clear: <i>Be quiet</i>.</p>
<p>Marius closes his mouth so fast that his teeth knock together, and he strains his ears to hear what might be going on beyond the wall. Now that he is paying attention, he can hear the sound of several different voices on the other side. He cannot quite make out all the words from here, however, and it is obvious that Javert likewise cannot follow the thread of the conversation.</p>
<p>The inspector bounds atop the commode with a feline grace, pressing his ear to the wall near the hole, and Marius cautiously follows suit, standing upon his bed and attempting to find the perfect position that will allow him to overhear the conversation without finding himself pressed against Javert’s side. For if such a thing were to happen once again, he thinks that he truly would faint dead away, and the mortification upon waking would cause him to pass away from this world entirely, and the thought of Javert having to deal with his body is simply frightful. Beyond anything else, the paperwork from having a civilian perish under his watch would surely be horrendous, and the thought of causing him so much inconvenience is something that Marius simply refuses to consider.</p>
<p>With much effort, Marius can make out the words from the next room.</p>
<p>“He has not been in all day, and you know very well that this is his dinner hour.”</p>
<p>It is the older Jondrette girl talking, and Marius blinks, trying to discern her meaning. Could she be talking about him – ?</p>
<p>Jondrette responds. “You are sure?”</p>
<p>“Sure.”</p>
<p>“All the same, there’s no harm in going to see whether he is there. Here, my girl, take the candle and go there.”</p>
<p>There is a moment of stillness, where the words refuse to sink in; then suddenly he finds himself on the floor, limbs scrambling, his body flinging itself beneath his bed even as his brain rushes to catch up. The approaching footsteps in the corridor beat a tattoo of certain doom, and he shoves himself back against the wall.</p>
<p>This is terrible – a disaster – an absolute nightmare – </p>
<p>Inspector Javert slams bodily into him as he joins him underneath the bed; the footsteps pause outside the door, and Marius briefly suspects that he actually <i>has</i> passed away, here under his bed, because surely this must be either Heaven or Hell. He cannot for the life of him tell which.</p>
<p>A large arm wraps around him and pulls him close, forcefully burying his face into the inspector’s chest, and now Marius can smell the faint edge of sweat beneath the tobacco. He breathes it in before he can stop himself – confirmation that his lungs are once again functioning, nothing more – and lies there, trembling, as the Jondrette girl calls out:</p>
<p>“P’pa, he is not in here.”</p>
<p>Marius does not dare relax, not just yet; he grips the inspector tighter, pulling him as far under the bed as is humanly possible. They cannot be found together like this by Jondrette and his dastardly associates. The consequences do not bear imagining.</p>
<p>There are further words, but he barely registers them. There is only himself and Inspector Javert, statue-still beneath the bed, and the hummingbird that seems to have taken up residence inside Marius’ chest. He can hear the beat of the inspector’s own heart behind his ribs, shockingly steady, although – there, its tempo has increased in tandem with the creak of the door as it swings open.</p>
<p>They are dead. Or worse than dead. Of all the ideas Marius has ever had, this is by far the most terrible. What was he thinking, meddling in the affairs of such an infamous gang of crooks?</p>
<p>The Jondrette daughter’s footsteps patter closer, and Marius contemplates the sweet embrace of death. How best to end his own life before they capture him and do indescribable things to him? Perhaps Inspector Javert will put a swift end to it for him.</p>
<p>But the footsteps continue past, on beyond the bed and towards the part of the room where there is nothing but the mirror. Between the broad expanse of the inspector’s chest and the dim winter’s evening there is nothing that Marius can see, but the girl is singing to herself now, in such a way as to make him think that she has not espied them. It is possible that she is trying to lull them into a false sense of security, to spring her trap when they least expect it, but he thinks not. She does not possess such guile; a mirror, it seems, is a pleasing enough diversion for her that she would take some time to admire herself.</p>
<p>He relaxes infinitesimally, his heart slowing down to a mere brisk rat-a-tat, and turns his mind to more pressing matters. Such as the fact that his relaxation has brought his leg into contact with – is that –</p>
<p>His mouth drops open, his eyes surely wide as saucers.</p>
<p>No – surely not! It is too hard, too large! Such a thing cannot exist in nature!</p>
<p>His body is immobile, petrified, but he thinks that perhaps his blood shall burst through his skin with the hammering of his heart.</p>
<p>And then – unthinkable! – Inspector Javert shifts ever so slightly, bringing that hardness into even more prominent contact with Marius’ thigh, and Marius shudders, quivers, and wishes every kind of retribution upon himself. For his own body is responding in kind, rebellious in the extreme, refusing to acknowledge his silent, frantic exhortations to desist this unseemly behaviour.</p>
<p>The girl and her father are calling to each other, engaging in a lengthy conversation, but Marius cannot comprehend a single word of it. For his face is now pressed against the inspector’s throat, and he can feel the man’s Adam’s apple move up and down as he swallows. And suddenly Marius is possessed by the wild urge to open his mouth and lick it – sinful temptation – forbidden fruit! If this is his Garden of Eden, then surely he will fall.</p>
<p>Perhaps he actually does run his tongue over the inspector’s throat; more likely he makes some unintentional noise. In any case, Javert suddenly clamps an enormous hand over Marius’ mouth. A sudden dizzy thought passes through his oxygen-deprived mind: if only he had some stubbornly sealed jar that resisted all attempts at opening – surely those gargantuan fingers would make short work of any such feeble impediment!</p>
<p>He vaguely registers the sound of the door closing, but Inspector Javert does not move; if anything, he becomes more still.</p>
<p>“Wait,” he whispers, and Marius is happy to do so; even if he were not, he would have no option but to obey in any case, as Javert is holding him fast. “They may return in a moment in an attempt to draw us out. I would not put any kind of trickery past these types.”</p>
<p>Marius does not think that any of the Jondrettes have the patience for such a thing, but he is not about to argue. Instead he continues to lie there in the man’s tight embrace and listen to the indistinct sound of yelling coming from the other side of the wall. Javert’s hand is still clamped over his mouth, his hard – <i>that</i> – still digging into his leg, and Marius begins to wonder if he actually fell asleep this afternoon, and all of this is some peculiar dream. Surely this cannot be –</p>
<p>The door slams open again, and only the iron grip of Inspector Javert’s hand around his jaw keeps Marius from shrieking in terror. He draws in air desperately through his nose, suddenly certain that his lungs are collapsing from sheer terror, and listens helplessly as a series of unidentifiable bumps and scrapes echo loudly through the room.</p>
<p>The door slams closed again all of a sudden, the interloper gone as quickly as they arrived. He dares not move – what if his lawless neighbours decide that they are going to spend the evening coming and going from his humble abode as they please?</p>
<p>An abrupt <i>click</i> from the direction of the door cuts through the fog of his mind, and he struggles to comprehend its meaning, even as a quiet but insistent voice deep within him says <i>Oh, no</i>.</p>
<p>Inspector Javert is out from under the bed like a shot, dashing over to the door and jerking at the handle. Marius moves more slowly, peering out into the gloom from the relative safety of his position under the bed.</p>
<p>“She’s locked us in, the accursed wench!” Javert hisses, eyes bulging with an apoplectic rage that cuts even through the darkness of the room. “You absolute ninny! Why on earth would you leave your keys in the door?!”</p>
<p>There are reasons that he could give – reasons that had always seemed perfectly logical when he had thought about them in the past – but they sit on the tip of his tongue, suddenly sounding horribly feeble to Marius’s mind. And so he lies there, half under the bed, and closes his eyes as Javert’s hand grasps his lapels and heaves him to his feet – and beyond, as he finds himself hauled up onto his tiptoes.</p>
<p>He chances an opening of his eyes – just a little – to see the inspector’s terrible face directly before his own, so close that Marius could, if he chose, almost lean forward and –</p>
<p>More yelling cuts through the wall; and although Marius cannot make out the words, it seems to be enough to jerk the inspector out of his rage and remind him that there are bigger issues afoot. As quickly as he was grabbed and manhandled into this position, Marius finds himself abandoned – Javert is back up on the commode again, face pressed against the hole, watching intently.</p>
<p>“What is – ” Marius whispers, but the inspector waves an impatient hand at him, never looking away from the Jondrettes’ room.</p>
<p>“You have done quite enough today, have you not?”</p>
<p>Marius supposes that he has. Certainly he did not <i>need</i> to go to the police to inform them of a potential crime in the offing, nor did he <i>need</i> to offer up his own home as the base for a police operation. And he most definitely did not <i>need</i> to be dragged about and groped by a giant brute of a policeman, and yet it had all happened, anyway.</p>
<p>He is not entirely sure whether he regrets it or not.</p>
<p>In any case, it matters not: for Javert has suddenly stiffened, his body rigid, his fists clenched. He continues to look through the crevice, but his entire demeanour has changed, fury written into every line of his body. From his mouth comes one low, seething word.</p>
<p>“<i>Valjean.</i>”</p>
<p>Marius does not know what this means, but Javert repeats it. And again.</p>
<p>“<i>Jean Valjean</i>.”</p>
<p>He trembles in his wrath; Marius thinks he may tear open the spy-hole with his bare hands and burst forth directly into the Jondrettes’ room. Instead, he jumps to the floor and paces back and forth, muttering to himself – Marius distantly notes that someone has stolen his chairs while he and Javert were under the bed – and so Marius takes the opportunity to climb up and look through the hole himself.</p>
<p>“… Monsieur Leblanc?”</p>
<p>Javert startles from his infuriated reverie; he snorts a laugh. “Ah, is that what he’s calling himself today? No matter. We shall bring him to justice together, you and I.”</p>
<p>Before Marius can object – he is not in a position to bring anyone to justice, and certainly not the old, generous, <i>very large</i> Monsieur Leblanc – Inspector Javert is pulling something from his trouser pocket and thrusting it into Marius’ hand. It is large, and long, and –</p>
<p>
  <i>Oh.</i>
</p>
<p>There is a moment of strangely disappointed realisation – of course the hard, insistent tormentor of his thigh had only been a pistol. This is quickly followed by another, more horrifying moment of realisation – it is a <i>pistol</i> – and he nearly throws the thing across the room in his shock.</p>
<p>“Fire that out the window,” Javert says fervently. “It will summon my colleagues. In the meantime, I shall apprehend the criminals in that room, and you shall be my backup.”</p>
<p>Marius opens his mouth to protest – this day has gone from bad to diabolical! – but Javert’s mouth stretches into a terrible smile, and he claps his hand on Marius’ shoulder, his fingers digging in far too hard to be friendly.</p>
<p>“You have proven yourself to be quick-witted and capable,” he says. “Can you prove that you are brave as well?”</p>
<p>Marius knows that he is being played – that there is no way that this is logical, or even particularly legal – but Javert seems to be getting some sort of perverse joy out of this, and Marius does not particularly care to untangle his reasoning. He certainly does not care to acknowledge that he may be feeling some sort of incomprehensibly perverse joy of his own, buried deep down beneath all the sheer terror.</p>
<p>In any case, he must help to rescue Monsieur Leblanc. Would his father have done no less?</p>
<p>He raises the pistol towards the ceiling, and fires.</p>
<p>The sound is deafening; he clamps his hands over his ringing ears, and squints painfully in Javert’s direction.</p>
<p>The man has a ghastly grin on his face, a crazed look in his eyes. He raises a stockinged foot, and, with one swift kick, puts it straight through Marius’ door. The wood splinters around it, and the inspector sticks his hand through the hole, reaching around for the key.</p>
<p>It occurs dimly to Marius that he will just have to farewell any semblance of privacy from now on; perhaps he should put holes in the floor and the other walls as well, just to have a matching set.</p>
<p>There is a moment of wild indecision, before his hand tightens around the pistol, and he determinedly follows Javert towards the yelling and commotion coming from the next room.</p>
<p>The key, he thinks, is not to think too hard about anything. Thinking too hard is what got him into this mess in the first place.</p>
<p>No, he’s just going to go in there with a gun in his hand and some simple goals: Follow Javert’s lead. Rescue Monsieur Leblanc. Apprehend the villains.</p>
<p>After that?</p>
<p>Refuse to fetch the inspector his boots, and insist that he come back to Marius’ apartment to retrieve them himself.</p>
<p>And after that?</p>
<p>… Well, he supposes that he will just have to find out.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>